We All Fall Down
by dr. sluice
Summary: Tenten, Neji, a bar, and some mutual sadness.


**Title:** We All Fall Down  
**Author:** zukkinimartini  
**Pairing:** Hyuuga Neji/Tenten  
**Fandom:** Naruto  
**Theme: #**1, look over here  
**Disclaimer:** _Naruto_ does not belong to me.  
**Rating:** Teen  
**Warnings:** AU

* * *

From the moment she walked in, she knew she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Just a glance around the grimy place and a saturation of the gruff atmosphere was tell-tale evidence that she shouldn't have been there. The place screamed _Clean me! _Like something you would write in the dust of an filthy mini-van parked at the conveniece store. Perhaps even louder.

Smoke clouded her vision as she hovered near the counter, a tired-looking middle-aged man standing behind the bar with a toothpick between his teeth. "You want something?"

"Ah...could I have a-" she began.

He finished for her. "Listen, kid, you look like you wanna get wasted. And you just don't look like the type that needs to get wasted. So I'll do you a favor," he reached under the counter to grab something, "a glass of ice water for a dollar."

She blinked. "What? I'm over twenty-one..."

The bartender gave her a doubtful once-over, gaze lingering on buns on her head. "If you insist..."

Her jaw slackened as he handed over the promised glass of water, full to the brim with ice and glittering in an odd way in the dim lights. She leveled her gaze menacingly at him, hoping to instill some sort of fright in him. But it was to no avail. His expression clearly said, _Go now before I give you a bib._

She brought the glass to her lips, surprised at how crisp the drink was. From somewhere like this, she imagined one of those dull tastes and floaties drifting happily in her drink. She shrugged.

There were several small tables in the middle, rounded and surrounded by four stools. It was a strange place, indeed. The majority of lamps that were suspended from the stained ceiling hand were missing bulbs, and it was hard to navigate her way through the place without stepping on someone's foot. On the edges by the wall were booths with red vinyl seats, dirty with their tables gritty and splintered.

A group of roughnecks sat playing cards, garbed in leather and chains. Their low growls reverberated throughout that section of the place, and their vocabulary was colorful, she'd give them that. To her relief, they said nothing to her as she squeezed by, looking for a booth to claim as her own, possibly someone to sit down and spill her problems to. Keeping it in like this was getting her no where and she knew it.

How she wished she had a drink.

As she scanned the premises for someone half-way decent to sit with she narrowed it down to two: a redhead blabbering stupidly into his cell phone and man with long, dark hair, hunched over in a booth. The former seemed far too drunk, as if he would break out into projectile vomiting at any given moment. He was hissing bitterly into the phone by the time she passed, grabbing his coat and stalking from the bar.

The latter, as she neared, was reading something, and his mouth turned downward at the corners. In fact, he had little creasing from where he might have frowned. Did he frown all the time? she wondered absently. From her angle, she wasn't able to see his eyes, or the material that he was reading. But by the movement under his eyelids, she could see he was reading it line-by-line.

She stopped, a little nervous. Swallowing and surprised he hadn't yet noticed her, she spoke.

"Want some company?"

Much to her astonishment, he didn't look up from the book (she had determined that while staring down at him), only speaking in a calm, measured voice that sounded almost unnaturally polite. "If you want."

"Okay..."

She sat, or rather plunked, down onto the bench which was cushy enough, albeit the crumbs she felt under her fingers as she ran it over the red vinyl. Curiosity took reign, as well as boredom, and she was eager to get a conversation going, despite how reserved this man intially was. His tongue would loosen as they evening progressed, she was sure of it.

"So, uh, what's your name?"

A simple introduction would suffice, she thought. It was a polite and thoughtful way to get into the deeper conversation she absolutely craved. Talking to a complete stranger about her issues was just the thing she needed to dispel the nasty black hole of doubt that was eating her inside out.

Again, the same cool words, the same strain behind his tone. "Hyuuga Neji."

_Hyuuga Neji. _His name sounded strange, his first bizarrely reminding her of an egg and his last reminding her of a tunnel. While these names muddled in her mind, they stopped dead in their tracks when she realized that he hadn't asked her _her _name. Minutes ticked by on the clock overhead as she tapped her fingers at a steady tempo; she had yet to see the man's eyes.

From what she could tell, he was very handsome. With a sharp (but not too sharp) jawline, an angular pair of cheekbones, a wide forehead, a patrician's nose, and a strong chin. The basic requirements all wrapped into one human being. Best of all, he was clean-shaven, something that you wouldn't normally see in a place like this. Even the bartender had a five o'clock shadow that put the gruffest bastard in the place to shame.

The silence was becoming unbearable.

She shifted a little, slouching in her seat and reaching out for her water glass. She gazed at him unabashedly; he continued reading, his shoulders rolling in a gesture akin to discomfort. He still said nothing. Out of habit, she began to crunch the ice, loudly and boisterously, enough for him to glance up at her sharply.

She saw his eyes.

Perhaps the strangest eyes she might have seen. Silver, almost filmy, without pupils. Solid silver irises that chilled her to the very core of her being. Irises that seemed to be searching her very soul, touching and probing around where she wanted them not. Fascination wrapped its traitorous claws around her and made her gape, her jaw hanging open in general disbelief.

"Your eyes..." she started, then trailed off when he averted his mystifying eyes.

"Everyone always does that," he said softly, returning to his book. His voice no longer held the strain it had once before, just a trace of disappoinment and exasperation. But she wasn't incapable of hearing the sadness belying his tone.

"I'm sorry," she apologized abruptly, sanguine with the knowledge that she was among his many rubberneckers. "I'll just go now...I didn't mean to interrupt your reading."

As she stood to leave, she heard the soft slide of a bookmark against paper and the clap of the hardback novel as it closed.

"No, stay," his words held some bitterness. "Please."

His words puzzled her as much as his eyes. "Ah...uh...all right..." She sat back down.

They stared at one another in awkward silence, she absently gawked at his eyes while he cleared his throat. Four times. It didn't take a fool to realize that this Neji fellow wasn't used to or acquainted with having conversations with complete strangers. She idly wondered if he even spoke to his loved ones. Did he even have any loved ones? Did he kill them?

The very thought made her squirm.

"What's your name?" he asked out of the blue.

The sharp interruption of silence made her start, and she averted her eyes as she spoke. Out of genuine fear that he would do that whole soul-searching thing again. That was way too creepy.

"Tenten."

The man named _Neji_ snorted, wry amusement dancing in his eyes when she dare look. "_Tenten_? Are your parents mathematicians?"

She couldn't help but admire how lovely and un-gloomy his face looked when he smiled. It chipped years from his appearance.

"No, but my mom's an accountant," she said between crunches of ice.

The humor fled his face, his features pinching as she continued to crackle the ice noisily. "Would you stop doing that? The noise gives me a headache..."

Tenten, oddly enough, found this a cause for conversation. "So you're one of the people who hates that noise, eh?"

He nodded.

And the cause died.

"You seem so out of place here," Tenten commented as she swallowed the last gulp of water, silenting cursing it for the lost of a distraction. "Come here often?"

He raised a brow. "You don't look like a regular, either." His gaze fell pointedly to her coiled buns. "Not many people step in with pigtails, you know."

She raised the right corner of her mouth, giving him a doubtful look. "Not many people come in dressed in sweater vests, either."

Once again, they fell into that awkward silence.

Tenten looked away, sighing wearily. If this was how far she was going to get with the man, she was miles away from her objective. The original goal had been to go to some seedy bar, get smashed, tell her sob story to some other drunkard, and go home happy and relieved that she'd told a complete stranger what needed to be told.

This man wasn't making it easy for her.

"Look," she began irritably, wringing her hands in her lap, "I came to get smashed and cry about my life. If you can't help me, I'm sure one of those fine gentlemen over there," she spared a glance to the ruffians playing poker, "can listen."

Neji, looking remarkably indifferent, stared blankly with vacant eyes. Irritation grew and patience dwindled as he just sat there, scrutinizing her with those creepy, creepy eyes. She wasn't sure whether this was a prompt for her to unravel her tale, or a silent plea for her to join the bikers. Before he'd sounded a little desperate but now...she wasn't so sure. So she did what the latter was suggesting.

As she began to slide from the bench, placing her hand on the table for balance, something warm and large covered her it. The warmth vined up her stomach, coiling and clenching as her eyes fell down to meet two hoary eyes looking at her intently.

"Please don't go," he whispered, the words flowing smoothly and unconsciously demanding that she regain her seat. "I need someone right now."

Tenten dropped unceremoniously into the seat, befuddled and agitated he had the gall to do this to her. Again. Her burgeoning curiosity began to claw savagely at her, insisting wildly that she pay close attention to this flesh-and-blood eccentricity. She knew nothing about him, only that he had poor taste in clothing. Unless one found sweater vests fashionable, of course.

Leaning forward, she cupped her cheek in her palm. "Why?"

Neji blinked, clearly lost. "Why what?"

"Why do you need someone right now?"

He sighed, the first time that evening that she truly recognized him as human, those eerie opalescent eyes settling on a framed poster for a movie from long before their time. The same uneasy silence blanketed them as the climactic ambiance suffocated. Tension escalated to new levels between them as Tenten gave Neji her undivided attention and he worked his jaw, almost nervously.

"I don't love my wife."

Tenten cocked her head to the side as the words weaved their way into her skull, and she came to an abrupt and bitter conclusion. He patiently awaited her two cents wearily and warily, as if he was half-braced and half-unprepared for her commentary. Her reaction was bittersweet, a laugh and groan all melted into one baffling result of acidity.

"That's two who don't love their wives tonight," she chuckled darkly. "Let's hope the total doesn't increase by the end of the night."

Neji's throat went dry. "Excuse me?"

Tenten's brown eyes trailed their way up slowly from their vacant leer at the table, her mouth fixed in a crooked grin. "Two men who don't love their wives tonight."

It was only then did he notice (he who prided himself in being extraordinarily observant) the shallow gleam of light on her left ring finger, where a plain silver wedding band rested. That in itself explained everything that was troubling her this night. Unsure of what to say next, Neji took a nosedive and apologized.

"I'm sorry."

"You should be saying that your wife, not me," she snorted derisively, and it ultimately made him wish that a woman whose goldfish had died, or even a woman whose favorite skirt had torn, was sitting across from him.

"Why doesn't your husband love you?"

A myriad of emotions flittered across her face before she resigned to frustration, a red flush staining her cheeks as she was about to tell him the reason. "He's been seeing another woman. Since before we were married."

In a gesture to look empathetic, because he felt like an ass, he furrowed his brow and nodded. "How...when did you find out?"

As he feared, the Tenten woman held her face in her hand, the crimson increasing steadily and he heard the first hiccups of a train of sobs. "I want...a drink," she blubbered. She peeked through her fingers to give him an unnervingly imploring look. "I...need...a drink."

This was beyond his level of expertise. "You'll be better without one," he reasoned. Certainly she wouldn't argue in this state.

"I...need...one."

He could hardly refuse as she quietly mourned her failed relationship. Moving wordlessly from their booth, Neji wormed his way through the closely-packed tables and stood at the counter anxiously and watched as the bartender pour the amber liquid into the glass, his eyes following the motions as the man recapped the bottle and wished him well over his shoulder.

Neji placed the shot glass tentatively in front of Tenten, whose face softened a degree as she reached for it. He cringed as she wrapped her pretty little fingers around the glass, and brought it to her lips, gulleting it down, if such a thing was possible. He wondered idly what kind of hard liquor the bartender had dispensed so confidently with a fatalistic look in his eye, and what effect it would have on his new companion.

Six shots later his innocent musings were watered down to flailing regrets.

In less than half an hour, Neji was educated about the heartrending tale of two lovers, star-crossed and voracious for one another, torn asunder by a wicked crone's evil spell. Or another version, more realistic, where Tenten discovered her sister nude and twisted around her husband in her queen-sized bed. She spat the words out maliciously, refering to her sister in colorful nouns and face-melting adjectives.

And then she squinted, peering forward with a suspicious glint in her eye. "What about you? Did _you_ sleep with your sister's wife...er...I mean your wife's sister?"

He gazed sternly at her, his face drawn and unamused by her suspicions. "I wouldn't disgrace someone like that."

"Never?" she asked, her voice holding a note of coy charm.

"Never."

"Does your wife even have a sister?"

"Yes."

As expected, she found the sledgehammer, "Why don't you love her?"

The question he'd been dreading right off the bat. Numbness nibbled at his mind, searching fatalistically for an answer to a question for that did not have an answer. It was all rhetoric in his mind. But the true answer lay buried deep inside his heart, not his mind.

He swallowed, nerves raw and vulnerable to a drunk woman. "...she hates me..."

The simper that curved Tenten's lips fell into a creased frown, a frown that made her look semi-sober. "What?"

"She hates me."

Tenten cocked her head in that annoyingly incisive way of hers, and her doe-ish brown eyes (although a tad glazed from the liquor) reflected genuine understanding that made his heart do a jig in his chest. "She probably doesn't hate you..."

Her warm words felt like a soft caress from the cold truth, a sweet lie fabulated to derail him from the honesty of the situation. More than anything else, the innocent assumption warmed the deadness in his heart.

"You wouldn't know," he said softly.

Silence again.

He chewed his lower lip, something he never did, and glowered at the table as Tenten slumped in her seat, looking defeated and broken. The buns on her head were dangerously close to coming undone, and the late night and atmosphere enticed Neji to finish the task. He pondered how her hair would feel against his fingertips, if she would allow him to run his fingers through it.

Itches needed to be scratched.

Never in his life had Neji ever given into temptation before, never had he let liquor burn a path down his throat, never had he touched a woman other than his wife, never had he thought anything but piety. Hedonism was the path not taken.

A dart of a tongue, and he was gone for good.

They were up against the wall outside in half a minute's time. Neji releasing his immortal soul for a taste of something new and drunken Tenten learning, much to her pleasure, payback was sweet. Bodies pressed intimately against one another as buttons popped, zippers cracked open and mouths clashed against each other like waves in a storm.

As patrons in the bar left, they could see hear something strange coming from around the corner...

Thanks for reading! Any reviews, critique is appreciated. By the way, there's a character's name in the text somewhere. If you can guess who the character is correctly, I'll commission a one-shot about _anything _in the Narutoverse.


End file.
